The lake drops off eight feet out, a shelf. I told you the drop wasn’t that steep as if unveiling a secret. The water gets darker there, from slate to ink, where my words fell off into lies. Waves lap the sides of my boat where I rock, alone in all that is lilting. Mist shrouds the edges then lifts. Fallen log. Three turtles slide into water like apparitions. Closer, one circle, then another, surfaces, rings that in their motion capture stillness. Or all that is below or is not, the nothing now, or all that listing starboard that happened from your over-steering. I toss you over in my mind like a stone falling deeper where the lake drops off, until you are eight feet out, buried in silt.
Elinor Ann Walker (she/her) holds a Ph.D. in English from the University of North Carolina-Chapel Hill, lives near the mountains, and prefers to write outside. Her poetry has appeared or is forthcoming in anthologies and journals including Cherry Tree, Hayden's Ferry Review, Jet Fuel Review, Nimrod, Northwest Review, Plume, and The Southern Review, among others. She has recently completed a full-length manuscript of poetry and is working on two chapbooks. Find her online at elinorannwalker.com.
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12/19 / Meet the Artist with visiting poet-in-residence Kristen Renee Miller / The Library at The Betsy-South Beach, Miami Beach, FL / Live and Live-Streamed on Instagram Live/Facebook Live at @swwimmiami / 6:00 pm EST / Free
12/19 / Poetry Reading with visiting poet-in-residence Kristen Renee Miller + Arsimmer McCoy / The Library at The Betsy-South Beach, Miami Beach, FL / Live and Live-Streamed on Instagram Live/Facebook Live at @swwimmiami / 7:30 pm EST / Free
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I love the imagery and the mysteriousness that builds to the last startling line.